


HAUNTED

by StarlightXNightmare



Series: Septic Egos [5]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cockroaches, Crying, DESCRIPTIVE vomiting, Demons, Hallucinations, Headaches, Horror, Insomnia, Lack of Appetite, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:11:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightXNightmare/pseuds/StarlightXNightmare
Summary: Something's been following Jack around and living inside his body for a while now. It's recently decided to reveal itself to him slowly through the month of October.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Subtle_Shenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/gifts).



> Big thanks to Subtle_Shenanigans for giving me the courage to write an Anti fic.

It started out small. Things so miniscule that Jack only noticed them when he looked back to see when this whole mess started. Things so innocent that they were easy to overlook.

The faint electronicky hum was an odd noise that faded in and out of existence, sometimes lingering for a few seconds while other times it lasted for hours on end. (Just his tinnitus from all the loud music he's played—on the drums and in video games—and all the yelling he's done over the years.)

His eyes seemed either too dry or too watery. They itched like hell when they were too dry and no amount of rubbing and blinking brought relief. When his eyes got too watery, he would find tears streaming down his face with no prompting. (Just a side effect from staring at screens for too long at a time.)

The weird, fleeting sense of being watched. (Carried over from all his time on camera.)

The cold stone in his stomach; the feeling of anticipation and dread flitting by. (Simply overreacting—Halloween is near after all.)

Small headaches that'd come and go whenever they wanted to. (Stared at the screen for too long and had the volume up too loud.)

Spots and areas where odd places would go numb. The tps and pads of his fingers, his eyelids, the joints of his elbows, knees, fingers, and toes, underneath his nails, his tongue, his face, and his spine were frequent offenders. (Just tired/chewed at his fingers/sat wrong/stood for too long/not enough sleep/sat at his computer for too long.)

Shadows dancing out of the corner of his vision; black shadows speeding by. Small, odd things that couldn't have possibly happened. (Not enough sleep.)

Lapses where he'd blink and he'd forget where he was and why he was there for a few moments. Times where he'd forget tiny things. (Distracted— _not enough sleep_.)

Occasional nightmare here and there. (Stressed.)

Things so innocent that were easy to overlook until they weren't.

The once faint electronicky hum grew louder over time. At times the static was all he could hear. During those times, skull splitting headaches formed and his hearing completely cut off, leaving him unable to hear anything other than the static and buzzing.

His dry eyes made him claw at his eyes to attempt to relieve the pain, signe having to step in to keep him from clawing his own eyes out. The dryness of his eyes kept him from sleeping and made his eyes burn when they were opened. Unfortunately when his eyes grew too watery after a week or two of this occurring, instead of crying, his eyes would leak blood.

The passing feeling of being watched stayed permanently now, eating away at Jack's sanity. He was on edge constantly, jumping at the smallest of sounds.

The feeling of anticipation and dread only amplified, leaving him unable to focus on his work for long periods of time or sleep.

The small headaches soon turned into migraines that forced him to lay in a fetal position in his bed with the lights off and the covers pulled over his head, his hands pressed over his ears for hours on end.

The small spots that went numb eventually turned into half to whole limbs. When he goes to sleep or wakes up, he'll feel his whole body is numb, rendering him immobile for however long it takes for get the blood flowing back through his body.

Shadows in the corners of his eyes soon became shadowy figures lurking in his house. The seemingly harmless, out of place hallucinations grew until they weren't so harmless anymore—things that couldn't possibly exist watching him or springing into existence in front of his very eyes.

The nightmares that occurred once or twice a week turned into night terrors every time he slept. It got to a point where every time he closed his eyes, he could see the images of all his nightmares burned into his mind's eye.

Jack was terrified that he was going crazy... and that's exactly what the demon living inside him wanted.


	2. EXOSKELETONS AND COPPER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack hadn't had much of an appetite for anything recently. He knows he's been worrying Signe but the stress of everything that's been happening lately has been killing his hunger. Unfortunately he had promised her he'd eat something today rather than drink five mugs of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My search history got a little weird with this one and I lost my appetite writing this.

Jack hadn't had much of an appetite for anything recently. He knows he's been worrying Signe but the stress of everything that's been happening lately has been killing his hunger. Unfortunately he had promised her he'd eat something today rather than drink five mugs of coffee. While he didn't feel hungry at the moment, he knew he had to keep his promise—if he didn't eat now then he wouldn't eat later.

He went with something light that would be less likely to bother his stomach—a single piece of toast may not be what Signe had in mind but it would be enough to satisfy her for a bit. The first bite made him want to be sick but then his stomach growled, demanding more.

It was about halfway into the piece of toast when he knew something was wrong. It crunched in a way toast definitely wasn't supposed to crunch—it was too hard for a lightly toasted slice of bread—and once he chewed once or twice something gooey filled his mouth. The taste was... indescribable. His gag reflex tried to force him to spit it out, but he screwed up his face and struggled to finish eating it. It was oily and bitter and it was most definitely the strongest thing he'd ever tasted (worse than those disgusting jelly beans he ate for a few challenges). After a mere few seconds of trying to swallow the bite, he clapped a hand over his mouth, what little he had managed to eat before threatening to come back up. Hard and thin bits of something were stuck between his teeth.

_What the hell was in his toast?_

He looked down at his toast, struggling to keep what little had had eaten down so he wouldn't vomit into his hand until he couldn't help it. He dropped the toast in disgust and bolted for the sink. Warmth and wetness pushed against his hand as his gag reflex finally worked properly before he even reached the sink. It didn't matter: all that mattered was getting the taste out of his mouth and if vomiting meant it purged the nasty aftertaste out of his mouth then so be it.

The faucet was turned on and as soon as his hand left his mouth, the two cups of coffee and the half piece of toast came back up and fell out of his mouth rather violently. A brief moment was given to wash his sticky hand before he cupped his hands together and caught the water, bringing it to his mouth so he could attempt to wash his mouth out.

He didn't know _how_ but he could hear the subtle scuttling of the cockroaches scurrying away from the dropped piece of toast. He swore he could feel them writhe on his skin and in his mouth. How did _that_ many roaches get on that one piece of bread? How did he not notice until _halfway_ through?

Suddenly the taste of something sharp and metallic slid down his throat instead of water. The taste overrode the taste of the roaches but it wasn't appreciated in the slightest. It was more than enough to trigger his gag reflex again and send red spewing out of his mouth and falling into the sink, splattering loudly against the steel of the sink. The liquid running from the tap was no longer water—it was _blood_.

But whose?

After the initial panic died down, he forced himself to look for the creepy crawlies that had escaped. He couldn't find a single one.

He was far too scared to try and wash the overwhelming aftertaste of the vomit out of his mouth. Even worse was that he could still taste the blood and the cockroach underneath all the acidity in his mouth. He'd tell Signe he got sick when he ate but not why. He didn't want to further worry her with the possibility of roaches in the house and blood coming from the tap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	3. WHISPERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes if Jack listened hard enough—listened for what lay underneath the meaningless noise noise—he could hear something odd. There were whispers under the white noise. The kind of whispers that were just low enough for him to be unable to make out what they were saying but loud enough for him to be sure they were indeed whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look at that—chapter #2 (technically #3 but whatever). Finally.

At first the ringing in his ears had been somewhat normal considering he suffered from tinnitus. While there was something off about the sound—that he couldn't quite place a finger on—he otherwise tried to ignore the noise. The sound remained for a couple seconds to a minute or two before disappearing, reappearing at random intervals throughout the days. It got more annoying than normal as two or three days passed. It got distracting enough that it was hard enough to concentrate on what he was doing, forcing him to pause recording sessions and wait the ringing out. It was enough to trigger headaches and keep him up later than intended when the peculiar noise prevented him from sleeping. Hell it even made it near impossible to focus on any conversations with Woosh.

It took him longer than he'd like to admit to figure out why the ringing sounded off. It wasn't ringing—it was static. The kind of static that happens when you leave an electronic device on for too long and the thing begins to overheat. Why he was hearing that kind of thing was beyond him.

Whenever the static began, Jack could swear it felt as if it were foreshadowing the presence of someone. The first couple seconds of the static was quieter than the rest and a lot less violent sounding (like a weird lulling song), sounding like it was warning him. The it picked up in volume and intensity, buzzing and humming vigorously as it seemed to announce the arrival of something. At the end of the static, it tapered off or sometimes ended abruptly. Like whatever was behind the static wandered away or disappeared in a mere moment.

Sometimes if Jack listened hard enough—listened for what lay underneath the meaningless noise noise—he could hear something odd. There were whispers under the white noise. The kind of whispers that were just low enough for him to be unable to make out what they were saying but loud enough for him to be sure they were indeed whispers. Every now and then the whispers would grow loud enough that Jack could catch snatches of what was being murmured.

"So dark here."

"Ringing."

"Help me."

"Something went wrong."

"Shhh... he'll hear."

While those were disturbing enough, some were ominous sounding. Like the whispers were repeating things they heard.

"Lovely little puppet."

"All tied up."

"Strings coiled around bones."

"Good puppets don't speak unless told to."

"Hurts less if you don't resist."

The one that bothered him the most however was one he heard while lying in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the bed he was on as he tried to will himself to sleep. This one was different though. The whispers under the static and the static itself had ceased all at once, leaving him in a stifling silence that was uncomfortable despite him having wished for it. The mattress sunk in on the edge, a delicate weight on his shoulder, the sensation of being watched, the feeling of hot, moist air ghosting inside his ear.

"You'll be a great addition to my collection." The voice was weird for many different reasons. It sounded glitchy, some words being higher pitched before dropping off into a much lower octave. The tone held something that sounded like... pride? Fondness? Eagerness? But stripping away the glitching voice and switching octaves it sounded eerily like... his own voice... but _wrong_. The high pitched giggle was enough to send chills racing down his spine, goosebumps rising on his arms and legs as he stiffened.

He gave up on sleeping that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I have most—if not the rest—of this story mapped out. Chapters may be out of order except for the beginning and last few chapters.


End file.
